Silver Baby
by Twilight-chan
Summary: Bit of a HarryDraco thing... starting at a certain dance, where Draco has a few confessions to make. Includes Maternal_Instincts_Harry and Delirously_Sad_Draco. Enjoy and R&R! ^_^ **Ch2 now up! Complete!**
1. Lavender

AN: Hi peoples! Finally trying out some PotterFiction for a change. Bwee!  
  
Warnings: If you know me, you know there's going to be (LOOK HERE) **SLASH** which means boys liking/kissing other boys. (LOOOOOOK!) If that's not your cup of tea, please don't read this, as I'm not very fond of flames. Constructive criticism is fine though! So yeah ^_^. Read on!  
  
More Warnings: Angst, fluff, yah yah yah. OOCness, sort of.  
  
Thankies: Everyone who reviewed my Digifiction (especially Something to Talk about, I hate that one, it's one of my older works, bleh). I got my first flame, nyah nyah! Fun! So yeah. Keep reviewing, faithful yaoi/slash addicts! XD  
  
Disclaimer:   
Guilmon: Twiwight-chan wishes she owned Dwaco Mawfoy. But she doesn't own any of da Hawwy Pottew books. So don't sue; she's twying to save up fow the next Hawwy Pottew book. Bai bai!  
  
Untitled  
  
It was nice to get out of the noisy hall for a change, and he was on the verge of getting a headache caused by Ron's Fleur-induced rants and the… well, weird music of the Weird Sisters. Harry breathed in the crisp December air and made his way out to the gardens.  
  
The rosebushes were alight with dancing pale blue fairies, and the whole area gave off an aura of magic and peacefulness. He walked slowly, taking in all around him and staring absentmindedly at the stars above in the clear night sky. The night was brisk, and not too cold for England (if they even were in England, as he had barely an idea where Hogwarts really was located).   
  
Harry turned around the corner of the walls surrounding the gardens, and saw a familiar figure leaning against the wall. Caught in a moment of silent wonder, Harry stared at the boy leaning against the wall in the moonlight, the pale glow of the fairies lighting up his pale features. The boy began to turn his head. Harry swiftly tried to duck back around the corner, but it was too late, as the boy had already seen him.  
  
"I'm not going to hex you, Potter."  
  
Harry didn't answer. He didn't move or make a sound, hoping the boy would dismiss it as a figment of his imagination.  
  
"Or curse you, for that matter. I'm not in the mood."  
Harry thought for a moment.  
  
"Prove it, Malfoy. Give me a compliment."  
  
"Don't push it, Potter."  
  
Harry turned back around the corner, settling himself and leaning against the wall in similar fashion a few feet away from the silver-haired boy.  
  
"In a good mood as well? Decided not to keep your distance?"  
  
"No, this just happens to be the best place to look at the stars," Harry replied coolly. Malfoy gave an unexpected small smile. They stood in silence for a few minutes, staring up into the endless black, spattered with tiny lights like dusty velvet.  
  
"'s almost unreal, how many there are." Harry looked at the pale boy, who was staring at the clear night sky with his mouth slightly open, revealing the tips of straight white teeth. Harry was caught staring for a moment, but he tore his eyes away and nodded with a small sound of agreement. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft chirpings of crickets and the faint music coming from within the dining hall.   
  
Draco let out a loud sigh and let his head roll across the stone so that he was facing Harry. Harry turned to look at the slightly shorter boy, defenses up in case of the insults that Draco usually threw.  
  
"So what's up with you." Draco said this like a statement, rather than a question, with his usual tired voice. It was odd, almost a question someone would ask of a good friend or acquaintance, not enemy. Harry shrugged, looking at the high-collared cloak that Malfoy had swung over his arm. He contemplated asking if the pale boy was cold, but decided not to. Instead, he inquired the whereabouts of Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Where's your date?"  
  
"Don't know, don't care." Harry chuckled, as he knew exactly how Malfoy felt. His date, Parvati Patil, had run off with one of the Beuxbatons boys and hadn't been seen since. Harry thought for a moment.  
  
"Aren't you cold?" Harry was surprised at Malfoy's question, since that had been what he had been thinking of asking the other boy a few seconds ago. Then he realized with a shiver that he *was* cold, and rubbed his arm shortly.  
  
"I'm fine," he replied. Draco raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Don't lie, Potter. You've got goose pimples up to your ratty hair. Here." In a swift, fluid movement, the black cloak was offered to the shivering boy in robes of bottle green. Harry hesitated. This was about the closest to kindness that Malfoy had ever gotten, but still…   
  
"What about you?" he asked, still a bit suspicious and not wanting to let his guard down one bit. Draco shrugged off the other boy's concern.  
  
"I've got two layers of robes and a sweater. If anything, I'll melt. Take it before I change my mind and decide to let you freeze," he growled, sounding a bit more like the old Malfoy that Harry knew and hated. Harry put out his hand, hesitating a bit, then lifted the cloak and tossed it about his shoulders. The high collar was a bit stiff and uncomfortable, and he understood why Malfoy hadn't been wearing it.  
  
"Er… thanks," he said softly. He was considerably warmer now, since the robe was made of thick, rich velvet.   
  
There was that silence again. Harry wanted desperately just to scream at the sky and break the annoying silence that fell whenever they began a transition to the *next* awkward moment. If only they weren't at a wizarding school somewhere in Great Britain under the attention of teachers and in the vicinity of classmates… there were millions of things Harry would have done.  
  
But they *were* in a wizarding school, somewhere in Great Britain, under the attention of teachers and in the vicinity of classmates, so Harry's wishes were stifled. And what of the blond boy's thoughts? Harry looked over at Malfoy who had resumed looking at the stars, his eyes glazed. There was no way to find out what he was thinking by reading that glazed look, so Harry decided to take a verbal approach.  
  
"What're you thinking about?" he asked, still looking at Malfoy. The other boy didn't answer for a few seconds.  
  
"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Just the kind of answer Harry expected of the former Malfoy. But the Malfoy that hadn't hexed him on sight, the Malfoy that had given Harry his cloak, what would *he* have said? Harry cleared his throat.  
  
"What're you thinking about?" he repeated with a small smile. Malfoy's head turned slowly, his eyes still glazed and bored-looking. "You're really expectant tonight, Potter. Do you really want to know what's going on in your archenemy's head?" he drawled, focusing his eyes. Harry nodded. "Yes, I do."  
  
"Sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Positive?"  
  
"Malfoy…"  
  
"You." Harry almost said "Yes" again before starting violently. He stared back at Malfoy in confusion, wondering if he had heard right.  
  
"What?" he ventured, a bit frightened of the answer he would receive.  
  
"You heard me, Potter. I saw you jump six feet in the air. I am thinking about you." Harry blinked for a few moments, staring back at unblinking Draco Malfoy who may as well have just proposed. Harry continued to stare even after Malfoy had turned away from him again.  
  
"Like… what about me?" he asked softly, moving a bit closer to Malfoy and again almost dreading the answer. Deciding what hex he should use? Plotting his untimely demise? Or perhaps… Harry shook this thought away, as it was impossible. But no one knew about his odd fascination with the silvery-haired boy. Harry hadn't told anyone, even Ron, that he loved those pale, emotionless eyes, that dark voice, and the majestic grace in which he conducted himself. He loved the feeling he got when he countered one of Malfoy's insults with his own, and the instant blush that covered the boy's defiant face. It was an odd combination of the best and worst parts of Harry's day when they bumped into each other in the hallways.  
After a moment's contemplation, Malfoy answered.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know."  
  
"Malfoy…"  
  
"Yes?" growled the spoken to, growing irritated.  
  
"Why do we hate each other?" It was Draco's turn to be surprised, and he stared back at Harry who was now looking nonchalantly at the dark sky, as if it would give him the answer. Draco brought on the silence again, thinking about this himself. Harry cast a sideways look at the other boy, trying desperately to decipher what he was thinking. Unfortunately, Malfoy's face was unreadable, but in a few minutes he had turned and taken a step towards Harry with an answer.  
  
"It was in the robes shop in Diagon Alley," he said softly, with almost a hurt tone. Harry recalled when they had first met, standing on stools in the store, being fitted for their school robes.  
  
"What about it?" Malfoy hesitated, as if this was a very hard decision to tell Harry this. But his gaze hardened, and he stared back into those eyes that matched  
  
"When I saw you walk in, I saw a boy who was new, innocent and most likely knew no one in the wizarding world and nothing about it. I wanted you to be my friend; I wanted to show you around Hogwarts, even though I hadn't ever been there myself. I wanted to introduce you to people, I wanted to laugh about stupid things with you, and I wanted to team up on homework with you. I wanted to be your friend. But then… we talked, and… and you started rejecting me. Then, when you told me about your parents… that's when you hated me. Am I right?" Harry was staring wide-eyed. His enemy, archenemy, hell, the one person he hated more than You-Know-Who and less than Professor Snape, was confessing his deepest thoughts to him. He nodded, not even sure of Malfoy's words.  
  
"Huh. And then I… I apologized."  
  
"Yeah, well you sure as hell didn't sound like you meant it!"  
  
"Well, I did! I meant it! I was sorry that you're parents aren't alive, and I still am, so what are you going to do?"  
  
"You aren't! Listen to yourself, Malfoy! This is the greatest load of rubbish I've ever heard. You weren't sorry one bit… and…" Harry trailed off. Malfoy had turned away, and his pale hair had fallen over his equally pale eyes. For a few moments, Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy was going to whip around and knock him out or not. But then he heard the boy's voice coming soft and cautious.  
  
"I… I wanted to be your friend. But you clearly hated me; after all I tried to do, all I tried to tell you. So I… I hated you for hating me. I hated you for all the kids whispering 'Harry Potter! It's Harry Potter, he's here!' everywhere I went on the first day. I hated you for all the teachers loving you. I hated you for everyone loving you. I hated you for having loyal friends, I hated you for being the center of attention all the time, I hated you for being Harry Potter. I hated you… because I…" Here his voice grew inaudible, and his shoulders shook. Harry, in his instinct to comfort people, laid a hand on Malfoy's shoulder, but he shook it off.  
  
"Go on…"  
  
"I… I… no. I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I won't." [1] Harry tried again to touch Malfoy's shoulder. This time the boy didn't shake him off, and Harry was surprised to find that the shoulder trembled. The defiant, smug Draco Malfoy was… crying?  
  
"Malfoy, are you…"  
  
"Draco." Harry looked puzzled.  
  
"W…what?"  
  
"Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco. Draco is my name." He repeated words in a dizzy trance between silent hot tears sliding down his face. Then, in a single, blinding, quick motion, he clamped his pale, slender hands onto the front of Harry's robes and wept bitterly into them. Harry was more than surprised now; his emerald eyes were the size of dinner plates and his tongue fumbled for words.  
  
"I… er, Mal- I mean, Draco…"  
  
"It's stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, it's stupid and *I'm* stupid and it's all stupid." Harry could barely hear the words Draco desperately repeated, as they were muffled by Draco's own thick velvet cloak.  
  
"Er… what's stupid?"  
  
"I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate you because… I hate… because… be…" Draco stammered wildly, like some sobbing child whose toy had been broken. Only in Draco's case, it was broken long ago, and he hadn't found it until just now.   
  
Harry eventually got over his overwhelming surprise and extended his arms around Draco's trembling form, burying his nose in the boy's silvery hair. It smelled of lavender. Harry took in the scent for a few seconds, then realized that Draco had been saying something.  
  
"What was that?" he asked softly.  
  
"I hate you because I *love* you, Harry Potter." Draco had managed a sentence without repeating a single word, and every word of that sentence blew Harry away. Draco Malfoy, wealthy, smug, self-centered Draco Malfoy, looked up into the emerald eyes he had wanted so badly to be friends with. His pale blue eyes were full of shining tears, and his lower lip trembled slightly. Harry's mind was a turmoil of thoughts, all swirling about like the liquids that he washed down the drain in Potions class. What to do, what to do when you had your sobbing archenemy in your arms, clenching your robes like he didn't know how to let go?  
  
It was then that the true closeness of their bodies struck Harry. If he had just slightly moved his head forward, their lips would have met. Every shudder Draco gave was felt by the other boy, and Harry realized, after the sleeves of black slid downward, that Draco *wasn't* wearing an extra layer of robes. He could feel the shivers of cold as well as the shudders of tears.  
  
Draco closed his eyes and looked downward, and unclenched a fist only to re-clench it and pound softly at Harry's shoulder.  
  
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate you!" he babbled softly, the tears still sliding unchecked down his flushed face. Then he felt the contact of another part of a human being at his cheek. Harry's index finger was sliding slowly across the wet skin, wiping away those hot crystal tears.  
  
"You…" he began, but stopped for a few seconds. He took in the moment, the body he held, and the crisp air around him.  
  
"You… don't have to," he whispered, moving a thumb along Draco's jawbone and feeling the chatter of his teeth. He was so cold.  
  
"I do, I do I do. I'm not supposed…"  
  
"You're freezing," Harry interrupted, for once noticing the steam that emerged with each breath. He tightened his grip on Draco's slender body, and Draco shook his head, the voice coming forth strangled and odd sounding.  
  
"I'm fine. I've got two layers…"  
  
"Ha ha. No you don't," Harry said sharply, pulling up the one sleeve on Draco's right arm. "You're freezing cold, I can feel you shivering." Draco let out a low growl of frustration.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Draco."  
  
"I'm *fine!*"  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"Draco! My bloody name is Draco!"  
  
"You're cold."  
  
"I'm going to be bloody dead if you squeeze me any tighter."  
  
Harry chuckled, loosening his grip a little. "Better?" But the funny moment was gone, and they were back to reality.   
  
That reality was such an out-of-place reality that neither of them would have been surprised at much anything. The closeness of their bodies made a lightning bolt strike Harry's spine again. Their noses were almost touching, and he could feel every contour of the front of Draco's body pressing against him in a desperate plea to be cared for. Harry felt a great surge of want toward the fragile, trembling boy in his arms, and ached to close the space between their lips and finally be swallowed by the moment. But something was holding him back, and he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew he didn't want to do anything just yet. Maybe he was waiting for them to be discovered, so that they could walk away and forget this whole episode. But somehow, Harry didn't think that was possible. They wouldn't forget, not after all that Draco had said, and the few but forceful words that Harry had returned.  
  
"Harry?" Said boy was knocked off of his train of thought by a small, almost pleading voice in front of him. He looked at Draco, noting that he had stopped crying, but his face was lined with salty tracks and his soft blue-gray eyes were glistening.   
  
And before Harry could answer, Draco was there. His hands had detached themselves from Harry's robes and the left grasped the small of Harry's back while the right tangled its fingers in ebony hair. The space was closed, and they were finally together in a union of lips, tongues and breath. If Harry's mind had been a turmoil before, it was nothing compared to now. Except that half of the swirling thoughts were simply the word 'Draco! Draco!! Draco!!!" chanted in a rush of feelings emotional and physical.  
  
And from the dimly fairy-lit bushes, someone saw.  
  
TBC  
  
AN: You like? Yes, yes, there is more, only a little more though. Not telling who saw, not telling who he's going to tell! ^_^ Bwee! This was jumbling around in my head for ages, and I decided to write it now. In case you didn't figure it out, this takes place at the Yule Ball. Duh. ^_^ 


	2. They Were *What*???

AN: Second Chapter! Short-ish. Buuuutt...   
  
If I get enough reviews... ::hinthint::... I may write a sequel that I have an idea for. I wanna hear your feedback! Speaking of  
  
Feedback: Much appreciated. Constructive criticism as well as compliments are welcome.  
  
Email: AngryPenguin211@aol.com. Drop me a line to badger me to update, or if you just want to chat! ^_^  
  
Warnings: Dude, **SLASH**. If you didn't figure that out in the last chapter... you need help.  
  
Dedicated: To my Zo-bo, for sharing in HarryDraco obsessiveness! ^_^ We bad. We bad.  
  
***ATTENTION***: I need a beta person. ^_^ That means: I email you my fics after I write them, you say thumbs up! thumbs down. etc, and we become chatty fun fanfic friends. So no, Zoe, it can't be you because you're not a *fanfictionalist.* You gotta be one of those two. Or at least someone educated at literature and that sort of stuff. Must be able to cope with SLASH, YAOI, INCEST/TWINCEST and all that stuff that makes homophobes squicky. So email me @ AngryPenguin211@aol.com, and my IM is the same. See you!  
  
Chapter Two: They Were *What*???  
  
Seamus Finnigan was out of breath. He had run out of the gardens, up the steps and into the dining hall and collided head-on with Ron Weasely, who had just been leaving.  
  
"Harry--Malfoy--" Seamus was bent double, Ron was looking *very* confused, but other than that, no one else seemed to be noticing.  
  
"What? Slow do-- I say, slow down, Seamus!" said Ron, placing a hand on the stricken boy's shoulder. After a few minutes of panting and gesticulating, breath for an explanation was barely found.  
  
"Harry--and Malfoy--kissing--no, *snogging*--"  
  
"What?!" interrupted Ron, almost shouting, but not really wanting to draw attention. "What did you say about the gardens??"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was like tearing something that was whole in two roughly when the kiss was stopped. They were both panting, confused, but somehow aching to repeat the whole whirlwind of an experience all over again. Harry collapsed against the wall with a sigh, and Draco did the same beside him. Draco suddenly flinched visibly.  
  
"What?" asked Harry. Draco closed his eyes and clenched a fist.  
  
"Thinking of how angry my father's going to be when he finds out my first kiss was with a boy, let alone Harry Potter," he said softly, with a touch of loathing. Harry caught a lock of silver-blond hair between to fingers and felt its pampered softess.  
  
"First?" said Harry, chuckling. "I wouldn't have known." Draco blushed slightly, but tried to keep himself calm. Harry continued to stroke the silky locks.  
  
"He doesn't have to find out," Harry whispered. Draco swatted the boy's hand away and turned around quickly. "He does, and he will. He'll sense something when he sees me, and he *will* find out. Don't underestimate my father, Potter."   
  
Harry, a little dissappointed at going back to 'Potter' so soon, frowned. Draco continued, his old sneer returning.  
  
"And let me tell you, Potter, this doesn't change anything. I and you have no idea what got into me tonight. I wan't you to *forget*. Forget forget forget forget forget. Because you and yours are *still* Muggle-loving garbage, and I still *hate* you."  
  
As suddenly as it had came, the loving fog that had came lifted, and the two boys were once again no more than passionate enemies in a normal fourteen-year-old life, Draco walking speedily off (he would be stomping, but he moved too gracefully for that term) and Harry giving a loud harrumph and turning with a swirl of--  
  
Draco's cloak.  
  
He gasped, clamping a hand over his mouth. Simultaneously, he heard footsteps approaching fast. His fingers fumbling over smooth velvet and stiff collar, he folded up the cloak as fast as he could and thrust into the (thankfully) luxurious sleeve of his robe just as he collided with Ron, who had made a run around the corner.  
  
"Harry! I er, Seamus, ah..."  
"Where's Malfoy??" demanded Seamus rather loudly, and at the same time as Ron, causing Harry to hesitate for a moment to comprehend them.  
  
"Malfoy?" asked Harry, feigning ignorance *very* well. Seamus's eyes were practically popping out of his head, he was casting nervous glances in every direction, and Ron was looking worse than all three of them.  
  
"He was here! He was... I thought I saw... I suppose..."  
  
"He thought he saw Malfoy and you sno... kissing," blurted Ron. Harry put on a mask of half-surprise, half-disgust on his face.  
  
"Kissing? I think someone's been slipping *something* into your pumpin juice, Seamus, because I'd jump out of the North Tower before kissing Malfoy," said Harry, laughing and clapping an arm about Seamus (who was still sputtering madly and pointing everywhere)'s shoulders. "Come on, let's get back into the castle." Ron followed, still looking *very* bewildered. They walked with the usual chatter and laughter, and Harry was still nervously aware of the uncomfortable bulge in his sleeve.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He made sure no one was in the vicinity of the dormitory, then made his way over to his dresser. Slowly pulling out the bottom drawer and digging to the bottom, he pulled out something long, black and soft. He covered his face with it convulsively, taking in the scent like it was precious, clean air after almost being suffocated. It smelled faintly of lavender.  
  
Just then, he heard footsteps softly approaching. He quickly folded up the high-collared dress cloak and placed it where it had been in the bottom drawer, and when his friend walked into the bedroom, all he saw was Harry Potter, lying relaxed on his bed, reading a copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages'.  
  
End  
  
AN: Bweeee! I love confusing Ron. if I am motivated enough (::cough::REVIEW::cough::) there will be a sequel in store... 


End file.
